


Mission Incomplete

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ive been advised, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Tumblr Prompt, lots of sadness, sort of, that you should bring tissues with you, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha was never supposed to be able to conceive a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Incomplete

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just warn people again- this is not a happy story. There are pregnancy issues and options discussed, and there will not be a sequel. See notes at the end for why I wrote this instead of what I was actually asked to write.

It wasn't supposed to happen in the first place.

The experiments Natasha had endured in the Red Room had rendered her infertile, unable to carry a child and, she had thought, unable to conceive one in the first place. Apparently her information was off because three months into her relationship with Steve, she skipped not one, not two, but three periods before she convinced herself to go to the doctor and rule out the impossible.

Except that the doctor told her that the impossible had happened. She was pregnant.

For the rest of the day, Natasha didn’t know how to feel. Her brain told her that this was probably a result of the serum running through Steve’s veins, something about him being so enhanced. The problem was that Natasha wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be a mother. Taking off nine months—and more!—for maternity leave seemed like torture and let’s face facts, she wasn’t exactly the nurturing, loving kind. She’d made peace already with the fact that she would never have a child, so maybe it was best that she just didn’t.

Diagnosed with a high-risk pregnancy thanks to the condition of her uterus, she went home that day with a heavy weight on her mind and pre-natal vitamins in her purse. She had to tell Steve, somehow, even though she’d told him flat out the first time they slept together that she was infertile. She wondered if he would be happy or upset- they’d never talked about wanting children.

It turned out that while Steve wasn’t particularly enthused about the idea of a surprise pregnancy, he was wholly supportive of whatever it was she wanted to do. It was nice of him to be so sweet about it, but Natasha just didn’t know. She figured he had a real opinion on it and wanted to get it out of him, which meant playing him until he snapped and let loose the actual truth.

All it really took was her mentioning the word ‘clinic’. Steve’s head snapped up so fast she thought his neck might have broken in the process and he asked her what she was looking up clinics for. A very short explanation told her all she needed to know. Steve might not have definitely wanted to keep the kid, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of an abortion. He treated the word like it was dirty, like it was something he couldn’t accept.

It was one of two options, then; adoption, or they kept the baby and tried to raise it.

As her pregnancy went on, Natasha found herself touching the slight swell of her belly at the most random times- when she was watching TV, when she was waiting for the microwave to tell her that her popcorn was done, when she was getting ready for bed or brushing her teeth. The swell of affection in her chest wasn’t an _entirely_ unwelcome feeling, she supposed.

And Steve was taking to it like he was born to be a husband and a father- neither of which he was just yet. He catered to Natasha without her asking for it, leaving little gifts around and laying out parenting magazines on the kitchen table. No pressure, he told her, but he wanted her to be as educated as possible. He also saw her through incredibly intense morning sickness and epic mood swings, cravings for ice cream and pizza and chocolate all at once and her tendency to try and seduce him around three full months in because her sex drive was up, but sex had been taken off the table by her very concerned gynecologist. The point is that he was good to her, no doubt about it.

Because of the high-risk diagnosis, Natasha was given strict instructions to stay home for the entire length of her pregnancy. Needless to say, she hated it. There were only so many movies one could watch in a day, or a week, or a month, without going a little crazy. She was also given a diet to adhere too, plus the odd craving, and was mandated to check up with her Ob/Gyn every month, no matter what. All that, coupled with the stress of not knowing whether or not she actually wanted the life growing inside her, made for a very stressed assassin. And stress, in a high-risk pregnancy, is a very dangerous thing.

Natasha was five months in when she woke up in the middle of the night and knew something was wrong. Cramps weren’t uncommon, but pain was shooting down her back like she was in labor- and it was way too early for that. Pushing the blankets aside, she found herself staring down at a pool of blood between her legs, staining her shorts and her thighs. To her surprise, she felt very little.

“Steve,” she urged calmly, nudging his arm. “Steve, wake up.”

The soldier grumbled to consciousness, finding her eyes in the dark… and eventually dragging his gaze down until he saw it too. Fully awake a moment later, he jumped out of bed and proceeded to panic, asking her what was wrong, what they could do, what they’d done wrong…

“I have to get down to the medical lab.” Calm. Natasha was wholly calm, her voice even and firm. “I’m too far along. They’ll want me to deliver.”

Nodding quickly, Steve carefully scooped Natasha up bridal style and carried her to the elevator. JARVIS notified them that he was alerting the only medical staff on duty (i.e., Bruce) and they arrived just a few minutes later to a grim looking Dr. Banner.

“On the table,” he instructed, pointing.

Steve laid Natasha down and stepped back, one arm covered in blood, and watched as Bruce examined his girlfriend and the baby with an ultrasound machine. Natasha, for her part, said not one word.

“We have to deliver,” Bruce said quietly, confirming Natasha's suspicions and looking down at her with such warmth in his eyes that she had to look away. She didn’t need pity. She wasn’t even sure she wanted the baby in the first place.

Nodding, she let out a slow breath and turned to Steve. “I don’t want you in here,” she said bluntly, clearly something he didn’t want to hear.

“What are you talking about?” he countered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Another harsh cramp went through her and Natasha closed her eyes, her brow crinkling as the only sign of any pain, but it was a lot for her. “Get out,” she said again, but her voice softened after that and she met his gaze. “Please. You don’t need to see this.”

Steve hesitated another moment and Natasha could have _sworn_ that his eyes were just a little more shiny than usual, his shoulders more curved. In that moment, she wished she’d gotten an abortion the same day she found out, just to save Steve from all that pain. Stepping forward, he kissed her temple and touched her hair for a moment before leaving the room as she’d requested.

The delivery was more uncomfortable than painful, once they’d induced the labor. Natasha put her feet in the stirrups and pushed, gritting her teeth to get through it as soon as possible with Bruce softly encouraging her. It was over too soon for it to be anything but a bad sign.

Bruce was kind enough to allow Natasha to clean herself up, helping her into a pair of clean scrubs and tucking her under several blankets in a hospital bed like she actually deserved the treatment and respect of a maternity ward.

She never took a breath, he said. She didn’t feel any pain.

Natasha nodded mutely and folded her hands in her lap, the weight of what had just happened finally wearing down on her. So. Maybe she could get pregnant, but she couldn’t carry a child to term. She would make sure that they got rid of any chances of this happening again, whether that be getting her tubes tied or a full hysterectomy. She didn’t care, but she wasn’t going through this again. Not ever.

Bruce came back to check up on her, taking her vitals and asking her if there was any pain. No. No pain. There was nothing. Her belly was slowly shrinking back down and she was a little sore, but there was nothing else. She let one hand rest on her stomach out of habit and turned her eyes to the doctor, listening to his words of advice- pain meds, taken as needed, and she’d have to stay off her feet for a little while longer. After that, she was free to try again. She wouldn’t, but she didn’t tell him that.

Did she want to hold her baby?

No.

Steve was admitted back into the room after a few moments and came right over to her, sitting down on the edge of her bed and taking her hand in his. He’d cleaned up, she noticed, and even put a shirt on. She didn’t know what to say to him.

But Bruce did. He explained the situation- an inhabitable environment that was not Natasha’s fault. The baby had passed right there in her womb.

Did _he_ want to hold their baby?

Yes. Natasha averted her eyes. She didn’t watch as Bruce placed a little pink bundle into Steve’s big arms and she certainly didn’t watch as her gentle giant of a boyfriend bent over his daughter and kissed her tiny forehead. She didn’t want to see her.

“Nat, we have to give her a name.”

Why? She wasn’t alive anymore. She had never taken a single breath of oxygen. Why did she need a name? Natasha’s lips were drying out as she refused to speak, bowing her head a little bit and idly rubbing her hand over her empty belly, her brow creased.

“Sarah,” she heard Steve tell Bruce. “Sarah Rogers.”

Bruce nodded and headed off, giving them some privacy, and Steve glanced over to her before speaking up. She could feel him looking at her, probably wondering how she could be so heartless as to not want to hold her own kid.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hold her?”

”She’s beautiful.”

“And so tiny, Nat. She’s so small.”

Natasha shook her head, but Steve wasn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes were cast down, focused on the baby in his arms, the baby who probably would have had big, bright eyes like her father, the baby who would have been so loved between the two of them and the rest of the team. The baby she couldn’t bring to life because she was damaged.

The baby that Steve clearly had some kind of emotional attachment to.

The baby he’d wanted, no matter what he said to make her feel better.

Life got very quiet after that. Steve became withdrawn and Natasha didn’t know how to fix it. She felt that it had something to do with her choices to not hold their baby at all, and her following decision to have the body cremated. A little urn remained in his bedroom, not hers. She hadn’t cried either. When Bruce gave her permission to, she’d left the hospital wing and taken up her usual activities- working out until her body was in perfect shape again and taking the first mission Fury offered her. There was no time for grief, no time to hate herself, no time to think about it.

Natasha supposed she grieved in her own way. It wasn't through tears or outward misery, but through nights where she would wake up and spend a long time on their balcony, overlooking the city. It was through the cups of tea she drank at three in the afternoon, staring into space and wondering what it would have been like with a child running around. It was through the way she solemnly packed up anything and everything that had been bought for her child- gifts of little shoes and pacifiers and rattles. It all went to charity, to children who were alive to use those things. All she kept, though Steve didn't know about it, was an impossibly tiny bracelet Tony had given them- gold, with a pendant that was engraved with 'Tiny Avenger' on the back. It was a nice thought, and it went into the box of things Natasha would never get rid of, things she would fiercely protect. She tucked it right in beside the arrow necklace Clint had given her a long time ago and the now dried flower Steve had given her on their first date. Memories. Some were happy, some weren't.

But she missed Steve. Sure, he slept beside her in bed most nights, but he didn’t hold her the same way. He didn’t smile at her in the mornings before he went off to shower. He didn’t spontaneously scoop her off the couch and carry her to bed. There was something very different about their relationship and she had a feeling that it had to do with her miscarriage.

And it was all her fault. It was her fault that Steve didn’t have a little, blonde daughter. He probably resented her for it and just didn’t know how to let her down easy without sounding cruel. The fact was, though, that Natasha didn’t want Steve to go. She’d already lost a child and maybe that loss was still trying to work itself out in her mind, but two full months later… all she knew for sure was that she didn’t want Steve to leave her.

One night, as she watched him head off to bed without her, without even a real kiss good night, she decided that it was now or never. Something had to be done. So, Natasha followed him. She stood silently in the doorway as Steve changed and slid under the covers, curling up with his back to her. She felt so guilty and it wasn't fair, because it wasn't her fault. She didn't sabotage her own pregnancy.

Steeling herself for rejection, she changed as well and instead of sliding onto her side of the bed, invaded his. She crawled under the covers right beside him, forcing him to face her though she didn't exactly meet his eyes. Instead, she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled herself close, hiding her face in his neck.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry I lost her.”

Steve tensed. She could feel the way his muscles contracted and he hesitated a moment before letting his arms surround her like they used to. Natasha swore inwardly at how _that_ seemed to make her somewhat emotional. She just missed it, missed feeling like she was worth something to him. 

“I know you wanted her. I'm sorry she died. I'm sorry I couldn't give her to you.” 

It was natural, she thought, to feel like a failure in circumstances like this. What Natasha didn't expect was how wet her eyes became, how frustrated, angry tears welled up and spilled over onto his neck as her hands clutched at his t-shirt. It was just that she thought she could do it, whether she wanted the baby or not. She could give Steve the family he wanted! And then... she'd failed. She wouldn't blame him for finding someone who wasn't so broken.

“I'm sorry I didn't want to hold her,” she added, voice muffled and thick from tears she should have let out a long time ago. “I'm sorry I couldn't name her. I'm sorry I can't give you a family.” 

It wasn't her  _fault_ . She had to keep reminding herself that the Red Room had done this to her, but that hardly mattered. Her worth was still lessened, wasn't it? Natasha knew, of course, that her worth as a woman should not have been in question based on her ability to conceive, but it was a lot easier to say that before she'd actually almost had a child. It was easier for women who  _could_ have a child to say that, because they had no idea how this felt. She didn't  _owe_ Steve anything either, but she wished she could be everything he wanted instead of some kind of consolation prize. And she didn't want to beg, but Steve was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her. Their relationship was still so new, really. What if he didn't want to see it through?

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing her back for a moment before he leaned away and tilted her head up with a gentle hand against her jaw. “I don't blame you for what happened, Nat. I mean, I'm sad... that it did happen, but it's not your fault.” 

Natasha blinked up at him and felt relief wash over her. So he didn't blame her? He was just sad. Not that his being sad was a good thing, of course, but at least he wasn't ready to leave her or anything. “I don't want to try again,” she admitted, finding his gaze and holding it. Her short-lived pregnancy had made her incredibly moody, tired, lethargic, sick... She couldn't go through that again and furthermore, she couldn't go through losing another baby.

Steve nodded. “Alright,” he agreed simply. “We won't try again.”

She was quick to give him some kind of hope, though. Maybe she wasn't sure right  _now_ whether she wanted a baby or not, but in the future? Who knows? “We have time,” she commented, leaning up to peck his lips. “We have so much time.”

There was always adoption, right? Or a surrogate. She could still give Steve a family that way, and she could still be a mother- as daunting as that sounded. Steve smiled down at her and Natasha realized that perhaps she'd just needed to let out her own grief in order to understand Steve's.

They fell asleep that night holding each other and in the morning, Natasha told him that Sarah had been a beautiful name for their baby girl.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, the prompt I got was for Steve to take care of Natasha while pregnant. My issue was that I do not, usually under any circumstances, write Natasha as able to become pregnant. I support the canon evidence (save for the alternate timeline where she does have a son) that she is infertile and as someone who has experience with certain reproductive issues myself, I feel that it's important to keep that part of her well-represented. I hope everyone gets something out of this, in whatever way, and I'm sorry if I made you cry. As always, thank you for reading. <3


End file.
